To paraphrase Paul Simon, yesterday it was my birthday and I hung 49 plus 1 more years on the line. And I’m not too sure how I feel about that. Anyone who knows me has heard me rattle on about it, in a faux-horror sort of way, for a while. But, as they say, it was just another day. My 18,263rd day, as it happens, but who’s counting?

As it turned out, it was rather a “domestic” day: lots to do, people to see, including most of my family in various places around town. And my big birthday tea ended up being beans on toast in front of an old episode of QI on Dave. At 10pm. Nothing wrong with that, and the company (Mrs WeeKeef) was excellent.

I have decided that my next 50 years should be “comfy”. A bit like the first 50.